


Cranberry Juice

by fuzzytrashbird



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Drabble Collection, Emotional Manipulation, Gender Confusion, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mild Language, Nonsense, One Shot Collection, Other, Personal Growth, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2019-08-25 22:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16669288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzytrashbird/pseuds/fuzzytrashbird
Summary: Everything in here is results of really bad days for me.I use writing to cope with my mental illnesses and figured I might as well share it.





	1. .

_Frustrated._

_Irritaed._

_Possibly even infuriated._

_Why is it like this?_

_Why does this happen to them?_

_What caused this?_

_What did they do to deserve this?_

_Was it because they spoke out?_

_Was it because people hate them?_

_Do people hate them?_

_Are they hated?_

_They don't deserve any of this._

_People shouldn't treat each other like this._

_It's wrong._

_This is all wrong._

_People are just wrong._

The detestable, revolting actions of people had him beyond furious, but what could he do?

_He doesn't know this person._

_They don't even know he exists._

_Hell, sometimes he's not even sure he exists himself._

Yet here he is, finding himself enraged by the actions of people he's never met and will probably never have to deal with in his entire life time.

His mind swarmed with questions lacking answers, but one question- one worry had him at his wits end.

_Is there anything he can do to help?_

At this point, arguing with those who have devastated this person seems all but helpful.

_Maybe he could say something to the person?_

_Would he even be able to do anything?_

_Would trying even be worth it?_

_Probably not._

The thought of his words not being helpful lingered in his mind, making him feel insignificant as slender fingers tapped at the keys on his keyboard, typing out the words he found best for this person.

He was  _anxious_.

_Would they even see the message?_

_Would they be repulsed by him, an unconditionally irrelevant human being?_

Multiple others have probably already messaged them, saying the same things as him, with better wording.

_Remarkable people who don't ever have to wonder if they actually exist._

Still, rereading his long and nonsensical message beforehand, he hit send.

Dread washed over him.

_What has he done?_

He just messaged a complete stranger to try to tell them everything is going to be okay.

_What the hell was he thinking?!_

_..._

_He wasn't._

Incapable of facing the humiliation he will face if they reply, he decided immediately that he shall never open the website again.

_Simple, right?_

**_Wrong._ **

Not even twenty minutes had passed before he was reminded of one vital detail.

Sure, he had closed the website, but he also had the app.

The high pitched " _Ding!_ " of a notification reminded him of his own ignorance.

He couldn't ever look at his phone again.

_..._

_When did he pick up his phone?_

He was reluctant to unlock the device, not even wanting to see the first few words, yet he did.

"Thank you..." were the only words he could see, and these simple words were enough to make his heart swell with confidence and pure, unbridled  _happiness_.

He had done something for someone and it hadn't fallen to shambles.

It was, more or less, a miracle.

But... what now?

_Is he supposed to message them back?_

_Is he supposed to say "You're welcome" and leave it at that?_

_Is he supposed to try to start a conversation?_

_That sounds like a bad idea._

Still, he felt himself being lured towards the third option.

_What's the worst that could happen if he did try to start a conversation?_

_He'd involuntarily repel them with his personality and they'd never talk to him again?_

_He's already been through that so many times that it wouldn't matter._

Reading through the words written to him by the stranger, he decided to start a conversation based on what they said about their situation, carefully wording what he says.

Minutes passed, maybe hours, while he talked to this stranger, void of introductions.

Somehow, this person seemed abnormally...  _familiar_  to him.

_Did he possibly know them?_

_That's impossible._

_He hasn't held a proper conversation with anyone in ages._

_..._

_Why did their wording feel so... comforting?_

_Why was he in such unbearable agony?_

The unceremonious "Goodbye" he shared with them left him feeling a bit isolated.

That was the first time he'd talked to someone in who knows how long.

_He felt... detached._

_What could he do?_

_He had to go to college._

_He missed enough classes already._

-

The lecture, monotonous as it was, allowed him to look around, seeing the people around him.

A few of them took hesitent glances towards him, disapproval clear on their faces.

_The sexaholic who slept with the professor._

_The sporty chunk of muscles who's tossing around a football and flirting with any girl that'll look at him._

_The social butterflies who are speaking softly to each other and giggling endlessly._

_The quiet kid reading one of the countless books on their table._

_The gamer who's so plainly obviously playing a game on his computer and not taking notes._

_The couple in the back that's doing a horrendous job at keeping their erotic moans hushed._

_The poor shy kid who's sitting next to them._

Eventually, his eyes landed on a specific person.

Sitting next to the person in front of him was a hooded figure.

Gentle hand's typed away on the keyboard of their laptop, ceasing movements to check for spelling errors and switch to another tab before switching back and typing again.

The light taps of the keyboard keys filled his ears as he looked at the screen, quickly finding himself overwhelmed to see, not notes for class, but what seemed to be a full chapter of a book.

_Was this person a writer?_

_Obviously, simpleton._

Finding himself reading some of the writing (at least what he  _could_  read from the distance) he noticed it wasn't the chapter of a book, but a message, asking people to stop.

Finding a few key words in this, he was struck yet again with the familiar irritation.

With a pencil in one hand, he meticulously wrote out a letter, simply asking the person to talk to him after the lecture.

Looking up, he noticed they had stopped typing and now had their head in their hands.

His heart sank a bit seeing this.

Tapping on their shoulder, he tossed the note onto the laptop, making sure they saw it.

_That was so embarrassing._

He felt like some high schooler who thought they were being ever so sneaky.

A small giggle left their mouth as they looked at the paper.

"What is this, high school?"

He outwardly cringed.

_That voice..._

The person tucked the paper in thier pocket, turning to him with a tiny yet grateful smile.

The two's eyes met and widened.


	2. ,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for someone who is no longer in my life, however I still figured I might as well add it.

She was  _confused_.

_Irritated_.

_Overwhelmed by emotion._

And  _completely_ terrified.

She had no clue what to do.

She had never been in a situation like this.

She didn't know how she felt and it infuriated her.

_She felt pressured._

She should be able to know her own feelings, yet here she was, completely lost.

None of this was  _familiar_.

Nothing about this was  _normal_ to her.

She hated things that weren't familiar.

She hated even more that  _one_ person made her feel things that made her like this.

It wasn't their fault.

_She knew that well._

They didn't mean to make her feel like this.

_Think_ like this.

_Act_ like this.

She didn't mean to do it, either.

She didn't  _want_ to break.

She didn't  _want_ to feel like this.

_She was in pain._

And she had managed to,  _yet again_ , go off on them.

Sure, they had made her feel like they looked down on her, but she didn't want to admit it.

She didn't want to admit that she felt like they thought she was stupid.

She didn't want to admit that the reason for her aggression and short fuse was none other than her feelings for the most important person in her world.

Not to them at least.

She would do anything to keep them from thinking they were at fault.

_Even if she knew it'd be best if she told them._

_Even if everyone told her talking things out was best._

_Even if **they** told her she should've talked it out._

_**Even if she wanted to talk it out.** _

She  _couldn't_.

She  _couldn't_ find the words.

She  _couldn't_ risk letting them think they're hurting her.

She  _couldn't_ let them feel bad.

She felt  _useless_.

She often felt she was better off alone.

She wouldn't bother anyone.

She'd be alone.

No one to disappoint.

No one to expect things from her.

No one to make her feel like  _this_.

_What was **this** anyway?_

_She didn't know._

The warm feeling in her chest when she thought of them.

The smile she couldn't erase when she talked to them.

The loneliness she felt when she didn't talk to them for long periods of time.

The fact that they could manage to cheer her up so easily.

What was any of it?

It was all so foreign.

She had never had someone do something like this to her.

Hell, sometimes she wasn't sure these were her own emotions.

_Were they even her own emotions?_

The need to apologize wore her down.

How long could she drag this out?

How long could she avoid telling them that she's tired of feeling like this?

How long could she go on feeling like this?

The unfamiliar feelings tearing her apart mentally.

She felt like her emotions were shards of glass.

She kept walking on the shards, blood pooling around her bare feet.

The pain was  _unbearable_.

Her head was spinning.

How long had she been like this?

_She should've bled out long ago._

Was this all a cruel loop she's stuck in?

Was she paying for past mistakes?

She felt like she was drowning.

_Suffocating._

Her own emotions strangling her.

Drowning in her own blood.

Her own mind was betraying her.

How long could she continue like this?

How long until she completely broke?

How long until she was nothing more than shattered porcelain doll on the ground?

She already felt like a cracked one, her own thoughts and emotions playing happily with her worn down body.

She had to tell them.

She had to apologize before she was dropped.

Shattered on the ground with the glass shards of her emotions.

Who would drop her, however, was something she dreaded.

Would she shatter herself?

Would they get tired of her before she had a chance?

Before she could make everything right?

Maybe they were right.

Maybe she is stupid.

Maybe the way they make her feel stupid is right.

Maybe they act like she knows nothing  _because_ she knows nothing. 

None of it.

She has no knowledge of her emotions.

Emotions felt like something entirely new to her.

_What is love?_

_Why do people hate each other?_

_What does it mean to be happy?_

_Where does sadness come from?_

_How do people become mad?_

None of it was comprehensible to her.

Not even the simplest of emotions made any sense to her.

Everything about it all... 

It made her  _mad_.

_That much she knew._

Not knowing made her  _mad_.

Not understanding made her  _mad_.

Feeling this way and not knowing why how how she felt this way made her  _mad_.

It all made her  _furious_.

The fact that they made her feel these unfamiliar things  _terrified_  her.

_She was so mixed up._

The  _happiness_ she felt because of them.

The  _sadness_ she felt when they were upset.

The  _anger_ she felt because of how they made her feel.

_The overwhelming sense of being clueless unstabled her._

The  _guilt_ she felt when she went off on them _tore away at her._

_The fact that she couldn't properly apologize ate away at her._

She was reduced to  _nothing_.

She felt like she couldn't say anything to fix it.

The words only her mind came up with, slowly tearing her apart and eating at her.

She's easy to replace.

There's nothing special about her.

They shoud find someone better than her.

She's terrible.

She couldn't even stop her own mind.

She couldn't stop her own mind from telling her they were going to replace her. 

She had to tell them.

_She had to tell them._

_**She had to tell them.** _

Everything.

She had to tell them.

Tell them that she's getting torn apart by how she feels about them.

Tell them she's sorry.

Tell them she knows a simple 'sorry' wont fix anything.

Tell them she doesn't know anything.

Tell them she truly does care for them more than anything in the world.

Tell them she doesn't want to go off on them.

Tell them she doesn't know what to about the thoughts eating away at her.

_It all just seems impossible._

_**The sigh that slipped out between her chapped lips meant one thing and one thing only.** _

_**She'd have to go another day of not telling.** _

_**Letting the thoughts and emotions tear her apart.** _

_**Accepting this as her life.** _

_**Knowing she can't do anything.** _

_**It's all her new normal, anyway.** _


	3. '

Dreams eating away at oneself is not quite how he had planned so spend his day.

That small thing continuously coming back to mind.

_The warmth only the him within his dreams knew._

_The feeling of loss he woke up with._

This was  _not_ his best day.

The feelings in his chest clashing with each other over and over.

_On one side, he had the pleasant feeling of a happy dream about speanding time with his significant other._

_On the other side, was the pain and sadness his mind left him with while conscious._

The ending of the dream was what was really getting to him.

He didn't know who, but one of them had to leave for a while.

He  _had_ been okay with it.

They were saying their goodbyes, agreeing they'd spend time together soon.

_How soon?_

_Who knew._

As he saw the door in front of him,  _he couldn't do it._

He broke down.

He tried his hardest to hide it, but it's hard to hide tears soaking through someone's shirt.

He hadn't known when or how he'd gotten there, but he was in their arms, trying, and failing, to hide his tears.

_He didn't cry._

_This wasn't like him._

However, when he woke up, it felt as if he had truly been crying.

_He felt drained._

The warm feeling of being in their arms in the dream was long gone, along with his good mood from the previous day.

His eyes landing on his phone, he wondered if he should tell them about this.

Maybe they'd be able to have some disgustingly fluffy and loving discussion about wishing they were near each other and it'd fix his mood.

_Something dumb and meme-y would work, right?_

_**Right?** _

The shuddering cringe that went over his body after he sent his message forced him to make up an excuse for the garbage he sent.

_They're going to think he's an idiot._

He thought about just outright saying "Hey, I want to tell you about the dream I had", but vetoed it.

_It was too straight forward._

His thumbs tapping his screen, he typed out something somehow  _worse_ than his original message.

He read his message over and over, his mind mocking him more and more each time.

_Not only_  did he suddenly say he feels like garbage, but he bluntly mentioned the dream.

_Could he be any more of an attention whore?_

His thumbs tapping the screen way too quickly, he quickly tried to save himself from the natural disaster that is himself.

_An idiot, that was what he felt like._

He could try later to tell them about the dream.

_Did he even need to tell them?_

_It's not like it was that important..._

The slight burning pain in his eyes made him feel uneasy.

_**He didn't cry.** _

_Why had that broken him down?_

_.... When did they break him down?_

He had no interest in love.

_No interest in that kind of relationship with others._

_**He wasn't even stable enough for a relationship.** _

_Since when had he become so... **this?**_

Looking at his screen, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable.

His responses were so detached and distracted.

_They probably thought he didn't want to talk to them._

A link to a tweet had him raising an eyebrow.

The tiny giggle that left his mouth made him feel relieved.

However, his response of "i will stab u" made him feel like a total jerk.

Of course, he was kidding.

He would never intentionally hurt anyone, let alone them.

However, this threat was a joke that had started and he didn't know if they'd think he was weird for stopping it.

Therefore, it stuck.

_When did he start feeling like this for them?_

_This so called **'love'** he couldn't confirm, nor deny._

His empty feeling from the dream came back.

_When had he ever wanted to see someone so badly that he cried over having to leave them in a dream?_

_**..... He hadn't.** _

His twitter timeline felt empty, his eyes barely reading anything until he came across a cute tweet.

_Sure, it was from an account about dog's thoughts, but it still expressed something he wanted to tell them a lot._

Sending the link, he felt himself wondering if they'd think he was weird.

_Who sends someone a tweet about a dog's thoughts to inform them that's how they feel?_

_He had to explain himself._

Before they could say anything about him using that tweet of all tweets, he had to prevent it.

He read his explanation over and over.

_Another_ somehow  _worse_ explanation. 

"i'm kinda sad today"

_He really is an attention whore._

Them asking how he was had him going down a slide into a pit.

"i'm living. kinda sad as i literally just said lmaoi'm living."

_How was he so pathetic?_

_He made it so obvious he wanted to talk to them about something, not to mention he was aggressive about it._

Avoiding topics he himself started to bring up, his specialty. 

_Asking them about them again, his escape._

_A pathetic escape, at that._

The almost empty feeling conversation left him to his thoughts again.

His responses were empty.

_He didn't know what to say._

Thoughts from previous days filled his head.

An old habit had been haunting him and the temptation was clouding his head.

He wanted to talk to them about it.

However, he didn't want to make them feel helpless.

_That's all he ever did._

_He made people feel helpless._

_He made himself helpless._

Their inactivity told him they probably went somewhere.

The sad, pathetic smile lingering on his lips felt as if it was ripping out any tiny bit of happiness left.

He really needed them and he couldn't even  _begin_ to tell them.

_Would telling them even matter?_

_It wasn't that important._

_He wasn't that important._

_Why add to their problems?_

He sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

He ran his finger tips along the bags under his eyes.

His lack of proper sleep ate away at him, mocking him with sad dreams and nightmares.

His mind running too much, he found himself running his fingertips lightly against the stickers on his laptop before opening it.

_Maybe he'll tell them another day._


	4. "

The last thing he needed at this point was  _exactly_ what happened. 

The weight of everything was too much and he was crushed by it.

_Everything was too much._

_His gender._

_His sexuality._

_His family._

_His friends._

_His body._

_His mind._

All of it was taking some form of toll on him, whether it be them or him.

_The simple sight of himself made him **sick**._

_He didn't feel right._

_Nothing about him felt right._

_This was **not** his body._

_It made him **sick**. _

Just as his body, who he liked made him sick.

He knew he was wrong. 

His family told him enough with the looks they gave him and the things they said.

Always asking if he was in a relationship with someone of the oppsite sex, despite knowing he generally preferred people of the same sex.

Asking if every person of the opposite sex he mentioned was his significant other.

Getting defensive when he corrected them or expressed any form of pain from their words.

He couldn't bring himself to tell his friends anything anymore.

He repeated the same things  _over and over_ , pretending those were the main problems.

_He couldn't tell them about how ill he felt._

He couldn't tell them how many times he'd looked at any form of blade and wanted so desperately to **...**

He couldn't tell them how much damage he was doing.

His body was sabotaging itself.

Forcing itself to be starved.

He tried again and again to convince himself he hated his weight and would be fine after losing some.

_He knew better than that._

Every time he looked in the mirror, he saw a stranger.

_The weight meant nothing to him._

_He had ruined himself._

_He was sick._

His mind didn't let him forget it.

His mind didn't let him forget anything.

It ate away at itself, digging deeper and deeper into things he didn't want to touch.

Things he had been told.

Things others said about him.

Things others had done to him.

The things he had been told about but didn't remember.

His body and mind were foreign to him. 

_He did not own them._

It ate away at him.

_What had happened to him?_

_What did people do at those times he didn't remember?_

_Was he overthinking it?_

_Was the fact that it even crossed his mind a sign something did happen?_

It all  _terrified_ him.

He was so terrified that he slipped.

Everything came falling down. 

The one thing he wanted to keep hidden at all costs.

The one thing he wanted to remove.

The one thing he didn't want them to see.

They not only saw it, but they experienced it.

The actions he'd seen every day.

The words he had heard every day.

The things he had learned were okay while growing up.

He learned later that they were not okay, and all too late.

They were stuck into his mind as normal.

He tried desperately to hide it.

He tried to stop himself.

He tried to hide himself.

All of it broke the wall he had shoved everything behind.

He did exactly what he was afraid of.

He always left before it got this bad.

It was better to abandon people than let this happen.

They'd forget him quickly and no one would know.

The damage would be minor.

_What could he do now?_

He couldn't leave, even if he knew he should.

He knew better than anyone else he was not ready to be in this spot.

He knew better than anyone else that he should leave.

He had gotten too far and too close.

The best option was leaving.

The thought was lingering in his mind for a while now.

They need someone better than him.

Someone who won't do exactly what he did.

He's toxic and he knows it.

He hadn't been able to breathe for years.

He hadn't been able to speak for years.

Every exhale released toxins. 

Every word he uttered harmed himself or others.

He shut everything down ages ago.

_He needed to get away from it all._


	5. -

He was  _dizzy_.

The twisting and turning maze in his own mind was getting to him.

He was going in circles, he was sure. 

However, he couldn't mark his path to be completely certain.

He didn't have any breadcrumbs to leave behind.

If he had, he probably would've eaten them anyway.

His only guide was his own memory, and he didn't trust his mind as far as he could throw it.

He  _knew_ he'd seen this before. 

He'd seen this same pattern _over and over._

He'd start feeling better, and suddenly everything came back and washed out all his progress.

He dove back into the same old habits yet again, knowing the turn out would be the same.

_The reason **never** mattered._

Whether it be him questioning his identity, validity, friendships, family.

Anything could cause him to take the wrong turn and end up in this same old pattern.

Sometimes he could at least put it off.

Using them as a distraction, ignoring his own being.

This only worked for so long.

Once they're not around, he can't do anything to stop it.

_Was he even right?_

_Was anything about him right?_

_Was this the right body?_

_Was this the right path in life?_

_Was this the right friend group?_

He loved his friends.

He often felt they were right. 

His friends were there for him.

They all supported him within his adventures of figuring himself out.

They were patient with his obnoxious jokes he used to express feelings he can't otherwise.

He knew they loved him.

It was all so plainly obvious.

Yet he still couldn't put it all together. 

There was that  _one_ thing off.

That one thing allowing these things to direct him in the wrong way, luring him into this part of the maze.

_Was he going backwards?_

With his earbuds plugged in and a strange feeling in his gut, he listened closely.

His pattern, laughing at him in the back of his mind.

_How many years has he been doing this?_

_How many years has he been listening to these same things he can quote word for word?_

_How many more years until he stops?_

_Why does he always go back to this?_

The music, despite making him want to dance, only made him more aware of his own existence.

He felt as though every bone in his body was trying to tell him to stop.

He knew it had something to do with that summer.

So much of his life had to do with that summer.

_It started that summer._

The feelings of rejection he had felt then flooded over him.

Words of others flooded over his mind, barely masked by the sound of someone speaking in his ears.

He felt  _disgusted_ with himself.

He had resorted to something like this, and he got absolutely  _nothing_ out of it.

He wanted to do something, anything, other than this, but his mind paralyzed his body.

The various sounds flowing out of his earbuds, easily louder than healthy, made his mind spin.

That familiar tune he once loved.

That sound he loved to listen to on good days.

That message telling him it was all okay he listened to on bad days.

That song he listened to continuously while drawing.

It all mixed together, creating an almost alien sound as time passed.

_What was he doing?_

He didn't even know himself.

His mind sent itself to the taste of honey as he laid there, his mind wandering as he listened to the same thing for the fourth time.

He thought about the world that allowed him this spiral.

_The summer that caused it to be a safe place._

_The people who made it anything but safe._

_The people now who are rebuilding his walls from the inside._

_The person who is building the doorway in the wall._

_The person who originally broke down the wall._

The small smile that formed on his lips, for once, did not make him feel sick.

It just simply felt  _wrong_.

The lingering questioning still ate away at him.

_Was anything he was doing right?_

_Was his maze trying to tell him he's on the wrong path?_

He was dizzy.

And he didn't know how to stop it.


	6. ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay to be fair this is not really about my mental health as much as it is a vent relating to the fact that i cannot express myself. i couldn't sleep because this was on my mind, so i figured i'd write something about it.

His fingers that ran through his unkempt hair for the fifteenth time tugged at his scalp.

Yet another sleepless night had his eyes dry and his body heavy.

He had fixed his sleep pattern, yet somehow managed to ruin it within twenty four hours.

He couldn't even remember _how_ he ruined it.

He just knew that every night he laid in bed awake, everything and nothing flowing through his head.

He found the voices playing in his ears through his earbuds all but comforting for once.

The other voices playing from his laptop speakers were drowned out by his thoughts. 

_When had he become like this?_

The thoughts showing themselves to his mind were forced back, allowing him to focus on the voice in his earbuds.

Giggles and sweet nothings could be heard coming from an unknown voice.

It wasn't abnormal.

His resort to listening to people pretending to be characters began ages ago.

It was the only comfort he could get then.

Now he found his mind wandering to them, as it always did.

All the little laughs.

All the sweet nothings.

It made him wish they were there.

He wanted to hug them.

He wanted to tell them just how much they mean to him.

How much he loves them.

He knew he couldn't.

He can't use words to express himself very well.

He often couldn't even tell them he loves them.

The thoughts always lingered.

All the things he wanted to tell them ate at the back of his mind.

_They changed his world._

**_They were his world._ **

_Every single time they told him they love him, despite his own response, it made him so happy._

_Every single time they told him how much he means to them._

_Whenever they shared something with him, whether it be something to annoy him, or because it made them think of him._

_Every time they lovingly made fun of him._

_Every time they came to him because they needed reassurance._

_Every time they heard him out when he needed to talk to someone._

_Every time they let him share things with them._

**_Everything they did._ **

**_Everything they were._ **

**_Everything they are._ **

_It all meant so much to him and more._

Sure, this wasn't all he thought of every night.

It did, however cross his mind every night.

He wanted nothing more than to be able to tell them how much easier they made every day easier to get through.

They made life easier.

He, however, would never say he couldn't live without them.

_He could._

He just didn't _want_ to.

He was fully aware of the fact that he could shut himself down.

He could flip a switch in his mind instantly that convinced him he never cared in the first place.

But he didn't _want_ to.

He, honestly, knew he could never tell them any of it.

He responded to "I love you's" with "gay".

He had to add "I guess" to the end of any nice thing he said or follow it up with an insult or he panicked.

_They understood this._

That, too, was something he loved about them.

They _knew_ he was trying.

They _knew_ he was doing his best for them.

They _knew_ he was pushing himself.

_Not once did they pressure him._

_They did nothing but support him._

The fingers that ran through his hair for the sixteenth time pulled him out of his own spiral of thoughts for a bit.

His exhaustion blurred his already distorted sight. 

He traced every bone he could feel in his right hand with his left, trying to remember if they felt so prominent before.

Trying to remember the last time he slept in his bed, he found himself at his desk.

The room around him whizzed past as the chair spun.

He felt like his head wasn't even attached to his body anymore.

All his thoughts leaked out from his disconntented throat.

He didn't know what he was doing anymore.

_He wasn't even sure he was real anymore._

Counting every crack he heard as he wiggled his toes, his mind wandered around in circles.

His fingers came into contact with the bandage on his forehead before running through his hair for the seventeenth time.

His lack of sleep fogged his mind, making everything a clouded mess.

His body, now returned to under the blankets on his bed, tried yet again to fall asleep, fully knowing it was probably futile.


	7. *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trigger/content warning  
> \- implied rape/mentions to  
> \- mentions of death  
> \- molestation  
> \- mentioned/implied pedophilia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm serious, be careful reading this.

  

 

 

His nightmares had never caused him too many problems before.

He didn't have them too often, after all.

When he did, they always left him in a numbed state of shock.

The last time he'd cried was when he went into shock from one.

He wasn't afraid of sharks, but his nightmare where he watched someone get bitten in half by a shark and die was enough to freak him out.

He was, however, afrad of certain things.

Most his nightmares were related to adult men and pregnancies.

He had feared them for as long as he could remember.

One of his nightmares was about having to go investigate a neighborhood that seemed shady.

Upon getting there, the streets were lined with children.

Children, who he soon realized, were almost all female, almost all pregnant, and all barely even over the age of 8.

They had lost all humanity and all were obviously ill.

That alone could have been enough to keep him from sleeping for days.

However, nothing he could recall could be worse than his most recent nightmare.

He had a lot of dreams about arguing with his younger cousin, who he hasn't gotten along with for years.

She was the beginning of a lot of problems with one of his previously closest family members and, while it wasn't her fault, she herself never made him feel any better.

In this nightmare, unlike most of the dreams, he had gotten so frustrated that he walked away.

Where he went was unknown.

The house they were in was one he saw in many dreams.

_A twisted version of his aunt's old house._

The basement he had wandered into was _not_ a normal location in his dreams.

None of it was familiar, even to the him in his dreams.

After finding himself in a space that looked as though someone lived in it, he came across his aunt's ex husband.

_A man he had never liked._

_The man was rude, snide, and overall creepy._

The man was _also_ the only person he wasn't angry at at the given moment.

Giving the silent nod he gives to most as a "Hello", he hoped to walk past.

The hand that was placed on his shoulder prevented him from doing so.

Being asked "What's wrong" was something he was used to.

People always asked him what was wrong, as if there was _always_ something wrong with him.

The person asking wasn't usually someone random, though.

It was usually what was wrong. 

The sigh that escaped his lips allowed him to acknowledge that just saying what his mind was probably best.

He tried explaining that he was just tired of his cousin.

He loved her, she's his cousin after all.

The way she acted was just too much for him.

The man who was once his uncle listened to him from a distance, nodding every so often in acknowledgement.

He didn't even care if the man was listening.

Saying it to the air was good enough for him.

He got a little uncomfortable when the man said he knew somewhere he could go to get away from his cousin for a bit, but figured if the guy had just listened to him he had no reason to worry.

His feet carried him to a room at the man's lead, finding a bedroom that looked like it was only slightly used.

His skin was crawling.

Watching as the man went and sat down at the foot of the bed, he wanted to run.

_He could run._

_The door was still open._

He could go back to where his cousin was and pretend he was fine like he usually does.

_He didn't have to be here._

Yet his feet wouldn't move.

The man encouraged him to come sit, so he did.

He gave himself at least a foot of space between himself and the cause of his newfound discomfort.

_He knew this was a mistake._

He worried more about what would happen if he tried to run.

A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that this man was married to his aunt.

_His aunt had trusted this man._

_He had no reason not to._

These thoughts disolved quickly as he felt the bed shift.

The hand that had been on his shoulder before returned and he felt sick.

_He had done this to himself._

The man's voice, too close to his ear, asked him if he had any other problems.

He awkwardly shifted slightly away, clearing his throat.

He decided to try to keep talking until he could get away.

Telling the man about how his aunt constantly compared him to his cousin, despite them being two completely different people.

How his mom told him stuff his family said about him, no matter how bad, and how much it hurt him.

He knew this wouldn't work as the man's hand slid down from his shoulder to his wrist.

He laughed awkwardly, apologizing for saying so much, and moved his hand away.

He tried to get up, saying his significant other has probably messaged him and he should message them back.

_He knew it wouldn't work._

His back hit the bed, stopping his breath for a second.

The hands holding his wrists down were going to leave a bruise.

The feeling of his wrists being forcefully held was scarily familiar.

He didn't know how or why. 

The man now above his powerless body was more terrifying than ever.

_He had no fight or flight reaction to anything._

_He either froze in place or ran._

_And running was not an option right now._

His mind screamed at him.

_He knew from the start._

_He had done this to himself._

_He didn't have to listen._

The hand that released his wrists shocked him.

His body cringed as hands traveled down his sides, reaching his hips.

Quickly sitting up and hitting his head against the man's head as a hand tried to reach into his pants, he took the chance and ran.

The stinging pain on his wrists and burning in his lungs ate away at his mind as he sprinted.

The speed of that man was unknown to him, as was the area he was in.

His mind screamed at him over and over.

He was an idiot.

As he found himself at the stairs, he started running up them, only to get cut off.

The grin on the man's face made his stomach turn.

He pushed past, figuring being so close to other people would save him.

The hand around his wrist denied this.

The pain flowing from his wrist up his arm made him want to stop everything.

The pain felt so familiar that it left him feeling like he wasn't in his own body.

The pain in his shoulder from ripping his arm away from the grasp was numb to him at this point.

_He was tired._

_He wanted to go home._

_He wanted to die._

His eyes shot open, meeting the back of his couch and a pillow.

The tv playing unfamiliar voices behind him was enough to get him to roll over.

Glancing up, his eyes met his dog's eyes.

She stared at him from his mother's lap, looking concerned.

His eyes slowly moved down to his wrists that felt like they were throbbing.

A familar feeling of hands forcefully gripping them lingered.

Slowly lifting his body up to a sitting position, he figured it was best he didn't say anything.

 


	8. /

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has all the normal warnings for things in the tags, along with a sexual harassment, molestation, and sexual assault warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not full rape, but a lack of consent in sexual acts, along with various nonconsensual physical contact

He had tried many times to convince himself it was _fine_.

That he was _fine_.

He laughed it off, saying "I could shove him off, it's fine."

The breakup hit him hard.

He laughed it off, as he had other things.

"I saw it coming, it's fine."

"It's for his mental health, and I'm more worried about that."

He hadn't really been fine with the breakup, but he _did_ care greatly about the mental health of who was now his ex.

It didn't take him long to get used to it.

Deep down, he was glad it had happened.

He knew he would have regretted if they had stayed together.

The same thing kept going through his mind.

_The same image over and over._

_The same feeling over and over._

Nowhere in his memory was there a time he recalled feeling so helpless and scared.

_Never had he felt so scared of one person._

_Especially someone so close to him._

Never once had he expected the person he loved to ignore when he said no.

At night, he laid in bed, the feeling of hands on his chest haunting him.

The no's he'd spoken having been ignored.

The hand that tried to travel too far down.

The feeling of his partner trying to force his tongue in his mouth.

The " _please_ " that followed every time he said no.

_It all haunted him._

He had taken a risk trusting this person, and up until this point, he had no reason _not_ to.

He could almost _hear_ his world falling apart that night.

Every bit of it crumbling and falling to the ground around his feet with a pathetic crash.

He had lost count of the number of times he said no.

He had lost count of the number of times his no's had been ignored.

He could still feel the pain in his hands and arms from how hard he shoved his partner off of him.

The fear he felt as he sat on the kitchen floor after, trying his hardest not to cry.

The burning sensation in his wrists from when they were pinned by his head when he tried to block his face to avoid kissing when he didn't want to.

The kisses that were forced upon him, despite his refusal.

It felt like a waste of a first kiss, while still feeling somewhat right.

The kisses after were frequent, and while in the heat of the moment.

Somehow, they all made him feel awful.

 

He had a few nightmares after.

Nightmares about what could've happened had he not gotten himself away.

Some of them continued to linger in his head.

He tried again and again to ignore it and laugh off the whole thing.

It was fine.

They were together at the time.

Them being in a relationship meant he was supposed to do those things.

He was being overdramatic.

Nothing even happened anyway.

They never had sex.

He was just felt up.

He had no reason to be so freaked out.

He was somehow still falling apart, despite thinking it was all over.

He couldn't even go to most of his friends about it.

He couldn't dare talk to them about it.

He met most of them through his partner while they were together.

He couldn't tell them what happened.

That was okay.

Nothing happened anyway. 

It wasn't like before.

He wasn't being sent unwanted nudes, or being treatened by someone that they'll be the one to take his virginity no matter what.

It wasn't unsolicited masturbation videos or harassment for nudes until he crumbled and complied.

This was nothing. 

He'd death with worse.

This didn't matter.

He was _fine_.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry you looked at this stuff.


End file.
